


Childhood

by Markovia



Category: Servamp (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Parents, Childhood, Servamp Appreciation Week, Servamp Week, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 09:46:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13679205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Markovia/pseuds/Markovia
Summary: “An animal,” he sighs, withdrawing his hand. “What are you even living for? You and me.”





	Childhood

**Author's Note:**

> My first submission for Servamp Week! I’m not going to be around tomorrow so I’m going to post this early. I hope you enjoy. :)

They’re still arguing in the living room, he can hear them quite clearly despite the door separating them. The fools only stop fighting one another when they turn on him, so he doesn’t tell them to shut up, not tonight. His face is still smarting and he needs to change the gauze there so it doesn’t seem sensible to walk straight into another confrontation when there is a hundred percent chance that it will end with one of them stabbing out a cigarette on his body. It never used to be the face, they never used to be so cavalier about the placement of the burns, the bruises, the myriad of other wounds Touma found could be inflicted on a human body. They’re either getting careless or they believe that no-one cares about his condition. He winces as he stands up from his bed, aching from the bruises and the way his shirt rubs against the welts on his back. Perhaps they’re right. 

 

With a few grunts, Touma walks across his room and sits down at his desk so that he can look in the mirror propped up against the wall. The wad of gauze on his cheek looks ridiculous and it’s ridiculous that none of the adults at school has mentioned it. No teachers, not even the receptionist threw him a caring glance. It’s not like he gives a shit, not anymore, but he thought it might have stuck out as an oddity if nothing else. Most of the students kept their mouths shut, opting to simply stare at him when they thought he wasn’t looking. There was only one person who asked if he was okay - that irritatingly chirpy Shirota in his class. Touma retorted that he was fine and to mind his own business but he noticed Toru keeping a close watch on him all day. He pulls out the small first aid kit he keeps in his desk drawer and sets it in the middle of the surface. Touma keeps his room tidy and clean, it’s far cleaner than the rest of the house. He used to try and keep the other rooms neat but the mountain of beer cans and scattered ash seemed unending so eventually he gave up. It’s not like he wants to spend time outside of his room anyway, so it’s never bothered him. 

 

Slowly he peels the current gauze from his face and places it down on the desk. The wound beneath his eye isn’t bleeding as profusely as before but the blisters have popped and now there’s something else oozing from the sores. Touma grits his teeth together, remembering the pain of the repeated stabbing of the burning cigarette tip. His step-Father was the one who held his torso down on the kitchen counter. His Mother was the one who took such glee in torching his skin.  _ Bastard _ , she always said.  _ A Bastard just like him.  _ He remembers the smell of alcohol on her breath and the feeling of his belt against his back and lets out a angry snarl. 

 

“I’ll kill you,” he hisses, low under his breath. 

 

“Wah?”

 

Touma jerks slightly at the sound then remembers he’s not alone in the room. It’s been a week since he stole away his neighbour’s infant and the bitch doesn’t seem to have noticed. Or she doesn’t care, Touma guesses the latter by the state of the poor thing’s face when he gathered him into his arms. He’s not a sentimental person, he’s not felt much in his life other than pain and anger, but the familiar sounds he heard floating through the wall that night made him act almost without thinking. The child doesn’t deserve to die, that’s what he’d thought when he rushed into the apartment next door and spirited the toddler away. He turns around on his desk chair and stares blankly at the child in his bed. 

 

He guesses the kid’s about two years old but he could be way off. The week that has passed has done a world of good for his injuries, the bruises on his face are fading and the scratches are healing nicely. His teeth will take a little longer to grow, there’s nothing Touma can do to speed that up. When the weekend arrives and his parents head out for their longer drinking sessions in the city he plans to take the child somewhere safer. The only reasonable option he can think of is the Tsuyuki family. They have been more than hospitable to Touma himself - for years they have let him stay over, eat dinner, Yoshimasa has even lined up an interview at some company for him as soon as he has finished school. He doesn’t  _ trust  _ them exactly but they’re the only ones he might consider trustworthy in the future. Asking them to take on a toddler is a stretch though. If they are unable to then he might have to turn the little boy over to the police who could potentially send him back next door, which seems fruitless. 

 

“Ta!” the boy chirps, waggling a little hand at Touma. 

 

That’s what he calls him, ‘Ta’ or sometimes ‘Tai’, there’s only so much his toothless mouth can handle. Touma stands and moves over to the bed, dropping down beside the infant who immediately crawls onto his lap. He peers down at the child’s face with an eyebrow raised. Somehow the strange little thing is still managing to smile. Touma doesn’t return it, though he wishes he could. He doesn’t think he’s able to smile anymore. Still, it’s good that the child can and he hopes that he won’t lose it as childhood progresses into adulthood. 

 

_ Childhood _ . A state of youth that is of supposed joy. Touma closes his eyes and for a moment the memories of pain flood his body like water over a broken damn. It hurts, it always hurts so much. His chests tightens as his breathing picks up and he twists the thin duvet between his fists to try and calm himself. The infant stares at him with wide eyes as he struggles to keep himself together but it doesn’t move until he lets out a shaky breath and his shoulders sag with relief. The child leans against his stomach and presses his hands into Touma’s side. It’s not a hug, it’s not any known gesture of comfort but the gentle weight grounds the older boy and finally his breathing slows. 

 

“We’ll be okay,” he whispers, raising a hand to softly rustle the child’s hair. He swallows thickly and offers what he thinks must look more like a frown than a smile but it’ll have to do. “You can be Tsurugi from now on. It’s a good name, right?”

 

Tsurugi doesn’t understand a word he’s saying but his smile widens. “Ta!”

 

“Yeah,” he murmurs, leaning his head back against the wall. “We’ll be okay.”

 

The child opens his mouth and gurgles, showing his sore, toothless gums. Touma’s brows dip with concern and he places the pad of his thumb on the boy’s bottom lip to keep his mouth open as he peers into it. There’s a few roots left which will fall out when his adult teeth come through and the jagged edges indicate that the teeth were knocked out by a weighted force rather than through neat extraction. 

 

“An animal,” he sighs, withdrawing his hand. “What are you even living for? You and me.” 

 

There’s a loud crash from outside, so he places the child back onto the bed and hurries across the room to lock the door. They’ll just fall through into his bedroom if he doesn’t. With a sigh, he seats himself back at the desk and rips open a sterile wipe to clean his wound. When he’s finished dabbing at the sores he sets a new gauze in place and tapes it firmly down. It seems to hold, so he slides the first aid kit back into the drawer. His hold lingers on the edge of the wood as his gaze lingers on something tucked away among the items at back. He grips the handle of the knife and carefully removes it to place it on his lap. The blade shines in the dull light from the only lamp in the windowless room. 

 

They’ll be drunk in a few more hours, drunk enough to not fight back. He can picture the way his Mother would gurgle around the blade as she tries to scream.  _ Who’s worthless now?,  _ that’s what he’ll say. He’ll take out his step-father’s eyes and crush them beneath his shoe, he’ll slice and cut and  _ tear- _

 

Tsurugi gurgles and then starts giggling at the sounds he has produced. The noise brought him out of his daydream and he quickly slid the knife back into the drawer. It would do no good to act on impulse, especially with the child still here. Acts like this are complicated and require careful planning in advance. There is still so much Touma wishes to do with his life, there are so many things he needs to achieve to prove his worth in the world. He moves across the room and sits down on the bed, resting back against the headboard. Tsurugi settles in his lap again, curling in on himself like a cat. It’s not long until the child is asleep. There’s a strangely peaceful expression on his face. Touma wonders how this creature’s life will fair. His chest tightens again so he starts petting Tsurugi’s hair and stares blankly at the ceiling. 

 

“Our lives will be worth something,” he says, quietly. The tone of his voice is soft but there is violence bubbling beneath the surface. “We’ll find something worth living for.”

 

Even if that something is  _ murder,  _ he thinks, we’ll find something worth living for.  __


End file.
